


Ineffable Game

by le_russe_satan



Category: Political RPF - UK 21st c.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_russe_satan/pseuds/le_russe_satan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The title of the fic is taken from the Good Omens by Terry Pratchett: God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of his own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players, to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Ineffable Game

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the fic is taken from the Good Omens by Terry Pratchett: God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of his own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players, to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.

**Friday, May, 2012.**  
 

 **7:29 am**

 

It was going to be a quiet day, - a _good_ day, - in politics, thought David. No major stories, no crises, no journalistic bashing of either his or Nick's party, and most importantly no meetings or important questions or issues for David to resolve. Just a quiet day for getting on with paperwork.  
 

David settled down to have another cup of coffee and go through morning newspapers. The one on top carried an article about a joint press-conference, Nick and he did the other day. The photo accompanying the article showed them grinning at each other and the caption read “ _Second Honeymoon_?”. It was indeed going to be a good day.  
 

 **8:03 am  
**  
Edward was already waiting for him in his office, his face unsmiling, unlike the faces of the other members of staff David met on the way, who were clearly enjoying the modicum of relaxation the slow news day promised.

'Good morning, Edward. Anything urgent?'

'Not exactly, sir. I had word from Deputy Prime Minister's Chief of Staff. Mr. Clegg sends his apologies as he is going to be late coming into the office.'

David stopped rifling through his briefcase and looked up.

'Oh? Is it anything serious?'

'No, sir. From what I gather, Mr. Clegg is to have a breakfast meeting with the new Dutch deputy ambassador.'

'No doubt, a friend from his European days,' David smirked, 'There is nothing today I need to see Nick about, so you may tell his Chief of Staff, that as far as I'm concerned, Nick can have a day off. Anything else, Edward?'

'Not for the moment.'

'Very well, I would like to get on with the paperwork, so...'

Llewellyn took the hint and left David to the paperwork, which for once David was going to enjoy.  
 

 **  
11:25 am  
**

It all started to go wrong just before lunchtime. It was almost innocuous at first. A nervous aide arrived from Llewellyn to inform him just in case, that David Tredinnick, MP was apparently making use of the slow news day by making noises about the need to invest money into further research of prayer as a medicine.

'Does he _want_ me to join the Science Party?' Grumbled David. Sometimes it seemed that his party had the highest percentage of nutters in it. Maybe joining with that Dr. What's-his-name, who challenged Tredinnick over the astrology software wasn't such a bad idea. Except that his degree would no doubt be mocked. 'Tell Edward to ignore it. I am pretty sure we'll only make it worse if we comment.'  
 

David's phone buzzed just as the aide left.  
 

 _Do you think atheist's prayer would have the same healing power as a believer's? Nick_.

David considered growling, thought better of it and returned to his work without giving Clegg the satisfaction of a reply.

 **11.47 am**

'Ah, David, I hope I'm not interrupting anything.' It took a few moments for David to place the voice.

'Not at all, Your Royal Highness, I was just about to have lunch.' What the hell was Prince Philip doing calling his office?

'Ah, well I won't take much of your time. I just saw the newspapers and thought I'd tell you how glad I am that you and Nicholas have patched up your relationship. I must admit I was rooting for the two of you. Such a shame you have all those political differences standing in your way, couldn't be easy for the two of you.' David nearly choked at that, but thankfully Prince Philip seemed to be distracted by someone talking in the background. 'So sorry, David, Lizzie says that I am being inappropriate so I'll leave you to it. Good day.'  
 

His Majesty rang off, leaving David to stare at the phone in bewilderment. What the hell prompted Prince Philip to call him personally and why did he sound like he was congratulating David on avoiding a break-up with Nick? And did he just hear the Queen being called Lizzie?

The good, quiet day he was having had decidedly turned odd. Maybe he was having hunger hallucinations or something.

 **13.14 pm**

David poured himself a cup of tea as he talked to Hague, about the Foreign Secretary's upcoming visit to Canada. The conversation was unhurried, almost lazy, perfectly reflecting the mood David had at the start of the day. His annoyance over Tredinnick and puzzlement over Prince Philip's call have already faded and wishing Hague a good trip, David sat down to enjoy his freshly made sandwiches, enjoying the peace and quiet of the private residence.  
 

His Blackberry buzzed.

 _At BBC now, being congratulated on the second honeymoon_. _Shouldn't you be here making marriage jokes? Nic_ k.

David grinned, despite himself: after the political storms of 2011, which nearly put an end to an idea of friendship between them, in the last few months they have unexpectedly developed a relationship that has so far weathered all the political arguments they had with flying colours. David no longer avoided calling Nick 'a friend' in public.

 _BBC must be slacking off. Prince Philip gave me his congratulations over an hour ago. David_

Nick's answering text was short and to the point.

 _What?!_

David chuckled and decided against answering Nick: a small revenge for his mockery earlier.

 **15:47 pm**

David stormed down the corridor with Llewellyn following close behind.

'Sir... David! You can't do this!'

'Watch me,' he growled, 'It's your damn fault anyway!' David stopped abruptly and rounded on Llewellyn. 'Why on earth did you think it was a good idea to involve me in this? It's protocol! You should be able to sort it out yourself!' Llewellyn looked stricken, but the pounding headache left David merciless.

'I'm sorry, sir. I thought that they would be less, er, argumentative in your presence.'

David sort of understood Llewellyn's reasoning, but it would take a while to forgive the man for making him sit and listen to the Russian and American ambassadors bickering, - fighting, really – over the programme and protocol of the upcoming visit of their presidents to UK. It was supposed to be a historical affair: British Prime Minister, American President and the newly elected, _really_ elected, Russian President making nice and smiling for the cameras and being cooperative as hell. Except, their ambassadors were hell-bent on making the visits look more favourable for their respective sides. And to add injury to insult, when David tried to get a word in edgewise, they rounded on him, mocked his education, his policies and the British Space Programme.

'Clearly that worked brilliantly. Now leave me alone and don't come back until they've reached an agreement.' David left Llewellyn staring stupidly after him, which was how Osborne found him several moments later.

'What's all the commotion about?'

Llewellyn sighed and rubbed his face distractedly.

'David just locked the American and Russian ambassadors in a room and told them they aren't coming out until they come to a compromise.'

Osborne grinned. 'Go, David.'

Llewellyn's head snapped up at this.

'You are heartless. They'll be livid and turn this into a major international incident.'

Osborn patted Llewellyn's arm.

'Trust me, there will be no incident. They wouldn't be able to handle the embarrassment.'

  
 

 **16:34 pm**

'Please, sir, just take five or six questions and they will be satisfied,' wheedled the Press Secretary.

'I refuse to comment on Tredinnick's bizarre beliefs,' the woman didn't really deserve David snapping at her, but David didn't really deserve having his day go the way it did.

'I doubt they'll be asking about him, sir. It's a slow news day. Mr. Tredinnick's statements prompted the media to start asking about the government's investment into scientific research.'

'I thought I had a Minister for that.'

'You do, sir. But they want to talk to you.'

David considered shrieking and possibly banging his head against a wall.

'Very well, I will come out and talk to them. No more than five questions though.'  
 

 **17:16 pm**  
 

The first couple of questions were reasonable and David was beginning to enjoy himself, the frustration at the ridiculous way the whole day went wrong lessening. And then there was that hack, jumping in front of him, out of nowhere, practically whacking David on the head with his microphone.

'Does the coalition's second honeymoon have anything to do with the rumours that Deputy Prime Minister and his wife are separating?'

David froze; he did expect the press to try and poke holes in the coalition's new found strength and he certainly expected for the rumours about Nick and Miriam to start surfacing, but this was outrageous. The reporter was ignoring the glares of his more respectable colleagues and kept shouting out follow-up questions; questions that were shouted and asked when the whole country seemed to hate Nick. David saw red.

 **17:41 pm**

David checked his phone. It wasn't Llewellyn or the Press Secretary as he expected, but Nick.

 _Where are you? Nick_  
 

 _Third floor, first door to the right as you come up the stairs. David._

A couple of minutes later the door opened, light spilling inside framing Nick's figure in the doorway.

'Come in and shut the door,' the man obliged and it was dark again.

'So. Hiding in a dark closet, are we? With a cat no less,' Nick sounded amused but there was a worried undertone in his voice.

'My staff and the media are out for my blood. Larry is the only one who isn't.' The cat meowed somewhere in the darkness hearing his name.

'So... You really did punch a journalist on live television because he insulted me.' Nick sounded almost impressed; David wished he could see his face. 'That is definitely a new one.'

David sighed.

'It was going to be a quiet day. I was going to catch up on things that we put on the back burner because there is always something more important. And then Tridennick was being a nutter, Prince Philip is clearly under impression that we are actually a couple, I locked two ambassadors in a room so they could fight it out, and then that hack, that utter idiot... You didn't hear him, Nick. It wasn't political. He wanted to rip apart your personal life... There was such delighted malice in his words.'

There was a long silence after that, which David spent cursing himself for an idiot.

'I, er, I actually saw it. They sent the video to my phone. You know you ought to be more careful or people will think you actually care.'

Idiot or not, David was going to be defiant to the end this day.

'What if I do?'

Nick's hands found him in the darkness and settled on his arms.

'I think that would be even better than watching you defend my honour.'

David felt Nick's lips on his and decided that maybe he should freak out more often.

 

 


End file.
